Atonement
by Suilven
Summary: Cara had done something very bad... From his hiding place beneath the table, Cullen could hear the adults talking, completely unaware of how his sister's fate was about to change his own. Entry for the DA: Asunder Creative Writing Challenge.


**Atonement**

Cullen made the doll—well, it wasn't so much a doll as it was a stuffed piece of scrap cloth—march across the rough floor. He was out of sight beneath the table and, for once, he hadn't been sent outside even though the adults were talking. Of course, he already knew what they were talking about; it was what _everyone_ was talking about… what Cara did.

The doll made a poor soldier, flopping forward unless he gripped it tightly around the middle, and it made him wish he had another one so it could have had someone to fight. Nico and Bertran would have teased him if they'd seen him playing with it, but they went out to the fields with Pa nearly every day now. Besides, it wasn't like he was playing a _girl_ game with it or anything. It had been Cara's, but it wasn't any more, so it could be _his_ soldier if he wanted. He peeked out around Ma's legs, but the templar in the shiny armor that he wasn't allowed to touch must have gone outside again. There had been four of them here yesterday, but there was just one left today.

The murmur of voices continued above his head as he stretched out on his stomach. Maybe his doll could be a templar instead of a soldier. He inched closer to where the cooking fire was burning brightly in the hearth and dug his finger along one of the cracks in the floor where the soot collected. With his fingertip, he traced a simple t-shape down the doll's chest. With a little more soot, he added a few wavy lines on either side. Cullen wiped his hands on his trousers and wiggled back so that he was completely covered by the table once more. It didn't look exactly like the emblem etched on the templars' armor, but it wasn't too bad. Now, if only he could find something to use as a sword…

"—sent word ahead to Denerim, so they'll be expecting him. Then, you can put this whole business behind you." The Revered Mother's voice was starting to get raspy, like it did at the end of services, especially the ones where she got all worked up and went on forever.

"Thank you, Your Reverence. I don't know what we'd do without you." Ma sounded funny today. She'd cried yesterday, after they'd taken Cara; at least until Pa had told her to stop. She'd done it again after they'd all gone to bed, muffled gasps against the blanket, but he was supposed to be sleeping so he didn't get up to tell her that Pa was going to be mad if he caught her.

"Come now, this is a joyous day." The Revered Mother's chair slid back, scraping across the floor as she stood up, and Cullen scrambled further beneath the table with the doll still clutched to his chest. "Call the boy out and I will bless him for you before I go."

Ma stood up then, too, before crouching down to peer under the table. "Come out, Cullen." The tone of her voice was strange and flat, and it made him feel suddenly nervous, like a trickle of cold water running down his spine. He didn't dare disobey, not with Her Reverence here, so he crawled out slowly leaving the doll behind after a moment of indecision.

The Revered Mother smiled and placed her wrinkled hand on the top of his head. She smelled like the sweet incense they burned in the chantry, billowing streams of smoke in lazy spirals during evening prayers. He bowed his head politely, even more frightened now by the way Ma had looked at him with a brittle sort of smile.

"May the Maker and His Beloved, Andraste, watch over this child and give him the strength of will to remain true to the path that has been set out before him. The Maker's will shall guide you—" The words of the blessing all seemed to jumble together, and the only thing he could concentrate on was the press of each bony finger digging into his scalp. It wasn't until her hand lifted that he realized that she had stopped talking and was eyeing him expectantly.

"Thank you for the blessing, Your Reverence." He managed a feeble attempt at a bow, even though his legs were trembling.

The old woman nodded once at him and then at Ma before shuffling towards the door. "I'll let Ser Jarold know that you're ready."

"Thank you, Your Reverence... for everything that you've done."

It wasn't until the door had closed that Ma turned to face him, giving him that same forced smile again. "So, were you listening while you were down there?"

"A little." He had tried listening for the first little while, until he'd become distracted by the doll, but nothing they'd said had made any sense. "Something about going to Denerim." Was Pa going? He couldn't imagine him wanting to leave right in the middle of planting season.

"That's right. You're going to be leaving with Ser Jarold. He's going to take you to Denerim, to the big chantry there." Ma spoke a little too quickly, not meeting his eyes until she'd finished speaking.

It was if the walls had just shifted inward, pinning him in place. "Just me?"

"Just you."

"For how long?"

"You won't be coming back here." Her fingers were nervously twisting one of the long strands of hair that draped around the edges of her face into a tight curl. "You're going to be trained as a templar. It's a great honor. "

He swallowed, thinking of the discarded doll under the table. His tongue tasted as though he'd eaten a handful of ash from the fireplace. "But… but, I don't want to go." She was going to let them take him away, too! He shook his head, edging back to lean against the solid edge of the table. "I didn't do anything. It was all Cara's—"

Ma exploded in a rage. "Don't you say her name! She doesn't exist anymore!" She grabbed him by the arm and yanked him forward, making him stumble. "The Revered Mother promised me that your service to the Maker will wipe the stain of that… abomination from our name." She crouched down in front of him, now, taking his face between her hands. "Don't you see, Cullen? You _have_ to go." He didn't understand, but she was crying again, so he nodded. "There's a good boy."

She kissed his forehead and straightened up, scrubbing the tears from her face with the back of her hand. He wanted to cry, too, but Bertran always hit him when he cried, so he swallowed his fear, feeling it settle like a chunk of stone in his stomach.

There was a sharp rap on the door and it creaked open. "You ready, lad?" Ser Jarold looked more frightening than he remembered, his words echoing strangely through the metal helm that concealed his face.

When he didn't move, Ma nudged him forward. "We'll be praying for you. Go on."

The templar reached out his armored hand and for lack of any other choice, he took it, his tiny hand engulfed in the man's gauntlet. The metal was colder to the touch than he'd thought it would be. Cullen glanced back, but Ma had already turned away to stir the pot that hung on the hook over the cooking fire. Her shoulders were shaking as she replaced the lid and pulled her shawl more tightly around her. She didn't turn around.

"Good-bye," he whispered, not knowing if she heard him.

He didn't cry until the last farmstead at the edge of town had vanished into the trees behind them. It was a small victory, but it was all he had left.

* * *

><p><em>AN: This is my entry for the Dragon Age: Asunder Creative Writing Challenge posted on the BSN (I'm bunny_girl1022 over there). Somehow, I doubt that this was what they were looking for, but this is the plot bunny that came sniffing around and nibbling on my socks until I complied._

_The incredibly wonderful karebear (bearonthecouch on deviantArt) did this sketch of Cullen with his doll and totally made my day. You can find it here (just remove the spaces): http:/bearonthecouch. deviantart. com/#/d4mvvjg_


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